


Levamentum

by DistractionReaction



Series: Recuperandae [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Canon-typical language, Desk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Harry Hart Lives, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Me making up names for characters that didn't get any in the movie, Plot (no really)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractionReaction/pseuds/DistractionReaction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He swallows hard and gives his head a hard shake. He’s hallucinating. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s come back post mission with his mind playing ticks. Getting smacked around some tends to do that to a bloke. But this is…different. He blinks and blinks again, but the more he stares the more the image sticks. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Then Arthur opens his mouth.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Galahad.” </i>
</p><p>Or: there's a familiar face in Arthur's seat, and Eggsy's not at all ready to deal with this whole phoenix-rising-from-the-grave schtick. </p><p>--</p><p>Where Roxy is a good friend, Merlin feels bad for lying, Harry Hart is frustratingly good with children, and Eggsy has a very long, very emotional day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Levamentum

**Author's Note:**

> Haha. Haha. Haaaa. I am a piece of shipper trash. 
> 
> After seeing Kingsman three times in theaters I decided to write a quick fluffy Hartwin piece which in my classic style turned into the beast you see before you. 
> 
> I have two major papers due this week that I haven't finished, exams on the horizon, a case file to close at Legal Aid, an annual general meeting for my board of directors coming up, and a long-fic for another series that is in desperate need of completion, but because I am a Kingsman-loving piece of shit I did this instead. 
> 
> Someone take this movie away from me. 
> 
> Obviously I own nothing because I am a hopeless failure of a human being who spends her time writing instead of pursuing her obligations like a responsible adult. 
> 
> Self-beta so comments and criticism are very very very welcome! 
> 
> Please enjoy the product of my procrastination. xoxo

“ _Eggsy, mate, thought I told ye I ‘ave a totty lined up for 5. She fit an’ gaggin’ for it, ye get me?_ ” 

“Oi, watch your mouth. S’my baby sis you got there-” 

“ _Said ye’d be home by two, ye did. An’ what, now I ‘ave te miss out on the first decent fuck I’ve had since-_ ”

“Bruv, bruv, language please.” Eggsy groans and slides out of the cab, catching at the swell of his fat lip with his thumb.

“ _She nappin’ bruv, easy._ ” 

“Right, right.” He waves his driver off and jogs up to the front door of the tailor shop. “Look, Jamal, y’know wot, I’ll pay you double for the whole ting. You take that bird to some ritzy ass joint an’ she’ll fuck your ruddy brains out, feel me?” 

Jamal goes silent for a moment before he lets out a tired sigh. " _Fine I’ll stay. An’ I’ll even walk the fat rat y’call a dog, yeah? ‘Cause I’m a good bruv, and s’what good bruvs do._ ”

Eggsy lights up with a smile and slides into the shop, offering Andrew, the tailor, a small waive. The man scowls at his appearance and flicks his gaze pointedly between the bruise, blackening his cheek bone, and the back stairwell. 

‘ _Sorry_ ’ he mouths with a sheepish shrug. Andrew shakes his head and turns his attention back to his work, the gesture not entirely without affection. 

“Jamal, you’re aces. Best a bruv a bloke could ever ask for.” 

“ _Don’ I know it. Y’ owe me Unwin._ ” 

A figure catches Eggsy’s eye as he rounds the top of the stairs and he grins. “I’ll text on the way back yeah? Cheers mate.” 

“ _Lancelot_!” He taps off his phone and slides it into the pocket of his single-breasted jacket. “Just the agent I was hopin’ to see. Jamal’s got my sis for the day yeah? Doin’ the fam a solid cause mum’s on vacay. Had ‘im cover sitting duty for me while I was in Brussels. Bit suspicious to come home from a tailor gig with a massive shiner tho, innit? Was hopin’ you could lend me some cover up after the meet…ing…”

He trails off when he gets closer, taking in her carefully schooled, neutral expression with a punch of concern. “Roxy?” He drags his hands back out of his pockets and steps forward. “Rox, luv, what is it?” 

She straightens and looks at him dead on, jaw locked and chin tipped up. “You’re late.” She doesn’t seem mad, more… _stressed_ , and that’s throwing him off. “Your flight was on time. You should have been here over an hour ago.” 

“Well, meeting was s’posed to start what…five minutes ago, yeah? Really by my standards I’m bloody early.” His brows pinch together in concern and he reaches out, clasping her arm tightly. “This ‘bout the new Arthur appointment?” 

“Well, yes but-”

“Serious? M’pretty sure my killin’ the last one weren’t my fault-”

“Eggsy-”

“I mean what’s a bloke supposed to do? Let ‘imself get done in by some old prick in a nice suit-”

“ _Eggsy_.” 

Her tone catches him off guard and he falls silent, startled. 

When Roxy reaches out to him, catching his hands and bringing them together between her clasped palms, her expression is searching. “I wanted time to talk with you first, to give you the chance to prepare.” 

“Rox, sweet, what-”

“Merlin only just told me last week. If things had been more certain, if they had known for sure, but it was so touch and go-” She’s floundering, and that is something that Lancelot just _does not do_ , “you would have been the first to know. Merlin was just trying to protect you-”

“Rox. Rox you tell me what’s going on.” Eggsy carefully extracts his hands from her grasp, tension racking up his spine. 

“The rest of the Kingsman are already in conference.” She releases him when he steps away, rubbing her palms together nervously. “I just need to know that you can handle seeing him-”

“Who Roxy? _Who!?_ ”

She opens her mouth to answer him, but stutters, at a loss. 

Roxy is _never_ at a loss. 

The urgent, heavy sensation of dread hits him so suddenly that he can’t help but move. In the blink of an eye he’s half way down the hall, side stepping her and walking towards the heavy wooden doors at a quick, determined pace.

“ _Eggsy wait!_ ” 

He pushes into the dining room with far less grace then is probably appropriate, given that he’s about to come face to face with his new boss, but the way Roxy’s acting has his nerves on edge. He barely takes two steps into the room when his eyes fix on a devastatingly familiar frame. 

The calm and poise of a Kingsman is ripped from him and he stumbles, steadied only by Roxy’s firm hand when she catches up at his back. 

He swallows hard and gives his head a hard shake. He’s hallucinating. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s come back post mission with his mind playing ticks. Getting smacked around some tends to do that to a bloke. But this is…different. He blinks and blinks again, but the more he stares the more the image sticks. 

Then Arthur opens his mouth.

“ _Galahad_.” 

If Rox hadn’t been right there at his back Eggsy probably would have dropped like a rock. His knees buckle slightly and he struggles to compose himself, unable to look away. 

Harry Hart. 

_Harry mother fucking Hart_ is sitting in Arthur’s seat, looking for all the world like he hasn’t been _dead_ for the past _four fucking months_. 

Like it’s completely fucking natural that he’s just _there_ , poised and calm at the head of the table. 

Like he was never shot down in front of that _fucking_ church. 

Only he was shot. He was shot right in the fucking face. 

Eggsy forces himself to get past the heavy haze that’s clouding his mind and finally looks at Harry, just takes him in. 

And that’s when he sees it.

He’s walking forward before he can stop himself, ignoring Rox’s noise of concern at his back. 

Harry rises from his chair and straightens his suit, but Eggsy hardly notices. He’s too busy staring at his face. 

With long, determined strides he’s at Harry’s front in a matter of seconds, hands coming up without any regard for manners or protocol. Harry doesn’t pull back when Eggsy’ seals his fingers over his cheeks. So he cups them carefully, smoothing a thumb over the snug, black fabric bound tightly across his left eye. 

“New look.” He murmurs, voice trembling against his will. He takes a moment to nudge Harry’s frames up further, sliding them to his hairline and examining the area around the eye patch critically. “This it then?” 

“Kingsman glasses are of a special make.” Harry’s voice is even and he allows Eggsy to turn his head to the side. He even leans into the touch. “They slowed the bullet impact, but not without some cost.”

“So wut, it’s just gone?” Eggsy’s breath catches and he runs his fingers up across the fabric. 

“ _Afraid so_.” 

With a hard swallow he reaches up, edging the frames back down over his mentor’s face. Harry stares at him with his good eye, expression carefully schooled. 

Then Merlin clears his throat from where he’s poised at the back of Arthur’s chair. That’s about when the tunnel vision fades, the rest of the room comes back to him and he’s suddenly hyper aware of his cock-up. 

“Ah.” _Shit_. He snaps his hands back from Harry’s face like they’ve been burned. Then he does his best to straighten his shoulders, fists shoving into his pockets and jaw jutting out slightly. His chest hurts and it’s hard to breathe, but he does his finest impression of cool and collected when he nods towards their empty chairs. “Right, we was about to get on with a meeting, yeah?” 

“ _Quite._ ” Something flashes in Harry’s gaze, but it’s gone too quick for Eggsy to process. He’s Arthur again, calm and poised, lowering himself into his seat with an impossible sort of grace. 

Eggsy forcibly tears his gaze away from that damned eye patch and glances up to Merlin. He has the wherewithal to look guilty, at least, but that doesn’t do much for Eggsy, who’s still torn between just fucking jetting it before he loses his lunch over the nice, posh dining room table, and swallowing back the flood of bile in his mouth long enough to sit through this shit show of a meeting. 

“Galahad?” 

His gaze snaps up at the sound of Roxy’s voice. She’s standing at the back of her seat, looking like she wants nothing more than to wrap him up in one of those big, firm hugs of hers. His heart gives a hard ache and his lip tries to quiver, but he clamps down on it, every bit of it. 

“Lancelot.” He manages to keep his voice steady, but he takes a moment to still the violent shake of his hands before he draws them out of his pockets. Once he’s certain he’s not going to make a fool of himself he drags his chair back and flops down into his designated spot at Arthur’s side. Roxy follows suit, catching his eye and tapping at the rim of her glasses. 

He mouths a quick ‘ _thanks luv_ and drags his own pair out of his breast pocket to slide up the bridge of his nose. 

They haven’t exactly got what you’d call a full roster anymore, but he takes a moment to nod to Percival, Gawain and Tristan when their shapes slide into view on the conference video stream. They’re still not his biggest fans, but they respect him well enough not to make any snide comments on his reaction to the new Arthur appointment. 

And for that, he’s grateful. 

“Right then.” Merlin clears his throat again, bringing the attention of the rest of the room back up to the front where Harry sits. “Shall we begin?” 

\---

The meeting goes as smoothly as can be expected, but that doesn’t stop Eggsy from sharply excusing himself and strolling briskly out of the dining room as soon as he’s able. 

For twenty bloody fucking minutes he sat there and dealt with it; dealt with the fact that Harry’s very much alive and breathing; dealt with the fact that his not-so-dead mentor is now his fucking boss; and now…now he just can’t deal with it anymore. 

His chest hurts so bad it feels like there’s a knife wedged in there, stuck through his lungs to keep him from breathing proper. When he hits the stairs he stumbles, barely managing to catch himself before he falls ass over tit to the ground below. 

“ _Sir?_ ” Andrew, bless him, looks positively startled by his ragged appearance. Concern mars his features when he steps up towards him, hovering at the bottom of the stairs that Eggsy’s currently tripping his way down. 

“Not now I-” His voice chokes off. He knows, just _knows_ that he’s about to cry and that _terrifies him_ , “Fuck…fitting room 2?” 

“All yours sir.” Andrew seems to get it, knows well enough to give him room. 

“Tanks mate.” Eggsy manages to spit out, chest squeezing tight when he turns on heel and barrels his way into the door at his left. Only once he’s got the solid body of wood at his shoulder blades, the heavy sound of the lock sliding shut at his, does he allow himself to lose it. 

His eyes sting and his vision blurs, the shakes hitting him so hard that he can hardly stop his teeth from chattering. With wet, desperate noises he sucks in air, trying to fill his screaming lungs through the tight vice of his throat. 

Then the first sob hiccups out of him, something heady and desperate that he has to scramble to clamp down on. The noise still slips out between his trembling fingers. So he squeezes his hands harder to his mouth, face scrunching up tightly. 

It doesn’t even surprise him when his knees finally give out. His back hits the door and he drops, crumpling to the ground. 

_Shit_. 

He has to get a hold of himself. Jamal’s waiting for him at home, been such a mate he has, taking care of Daisy and JB like this without much notice. It’s downright selfish to keep him waiting like this…he just needs to stop shaking, needs to clear the ache and fog from his head-

 _Harry’s alive_.

After all of this time that fucking loveable prick of an agent is alive and Eggsy just wants to scream. 

“ _Galahad?_ ” 

The rap on the door is firm and insistent and he stiffens at the sound. 

“ _Rox_.” He croaks, torn for a moment between telling her to leave and dragging her bodily into the room. He settles for something between the two, reaching up shakily from where he’s huddled on the floor to flick the lock open. 

She slides in without hesitating, stepping around him delicately and locking the door once more. She knows him so well, knows he needs this, needs the illusion of privacy.

“ _Eggsy_.” She crouches down, her face twisted in a mask of concern and hesitance. Even though she’s right in front of him she doesn’t move to touch, just waits, hands clenched together between her bent knees, her gaze searching him for permission. “You alright?” 

He slowly drops his other hand from his mouth, head nodding slightly, trying to breathe through the agony. Then he stops, lips trembling and face scrunching up when he starts to shake his head instead. There’s nothing he can do to stop the fat, stinging tears from rolling down his cheeks. 

She doesn’t need to be told twice. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you Eggsy. Let’s just get rid of these yeah?” She reaches out and carefully removes his glasses, and it’s only then that he notices she’s not wearing hers. 

“ _Fuck_.” The spark of humiliation is so sharp that he almost chokes on it. “Merlin saw?” 

“Not much, I’m sure.” Her voice is soothing and she reaches out, cupping his face carefully. “You know he respects you more than that.” 

“Yeah? Respects me ‘nuff to lie to me for _months_?” He spits, breath hiccupping in his chest. “T’ keep sumfin so important from me?” 

He’s got no trace of composure left, his shoulders hunched up to his ears. “Respects me ‘nuff to just stand there an’ let me _grieve_.” 

“ _Oh Eggsy_.” She grabs at him, one arm wrapping around his back while she drops completely to her knees. He allows himself to be tugged into her chest, clutching at the lapels of her jacket when she weaves a hand through his hair. 

Her grip on him is firm and steady, her body a hard line of warmth against his front. He presses his face into her throat and just tries to _breathe_. 

There’s no telling how long they sit there like that, Roxy murmuring soft words of comfort and rubbing a hand rhythmically across his back. His throat is raw and his head is aching by the time he’s got enough composure to actually hear her through the hard pounding of his heart in his ears. 

“That’s it now. We’ll get you sorted and we’ll fix you up with some makeup. Then you can go home and see that precious little sister of yours.” 

Eggsy nods and tries to answer, but his lips are still trembling and he can’t force the words out through the tight vice around his chest. 

“It’s alright.” She soothes, and she’s right. 

It is alright.

Because _Harry fucking Hart_ is _alive_. 

\---

“That’s my Daisy girl, open up, nice n’ wide.” Eggsy shifts forward until he’s perched on the edge of his seat, bringing the spoon closer. “Jus’ like your big bruv, go _ahhh_.” 

“Aaaah.” She pops her mouth open and he slides the spoon inside, smiling when she sucks on it with a happy hum. 

“Thought y’might like it. Some fancy mashed up potato type-stuff. An’ from the good market too.” He offers her a bright grin and goes into the glass container for another spoonful. “Hafta tell mummy that we found sumting that don’t make you fussy.” 

“ _-ggy, ggy!_ ” She reaches out with her sticky fingers, catching at his chin when he leans close to give her nose a kiss. 

She’s had the word ‘mum’ down for the better part of a month now, and every day now she gets closer to getting his own name down.

“That’s our bright girl, usin’ them big brains of yours.” He cooes, giving her another mouthful and using the edge of the spoon to catch the bits of food that slip past her lips. “Gonna get you your own playroom in the new house yeah? Put a big ‘ol blackboard in there an’ all. Won’ that be fun?” 

She makes another happy sound, accidentally spitting up a chunk of her food. 

“Oi, keep that in your mouth.” 

He gives her chin a wipe, mind drifting back to the conversation he’d had with his mum just a few minutes earlier. 

With Harry back in action, he’s likely gonna want his house back. Eggsy hasn’t so much as changed a picture; much to his mum’s chagrin. Kept it as untouched as he could manage with a baby in the house. 

But Harry’s alive again, and Eggsy’s got no more need to keep this odd shrine of his anymore.

The first thing he’d done when he got back (after Roxy’d coached him down and cleaned him up that is) was call up Merlin to find him a new house. Lord knows the man owed him one after keeping Harry from him for the last four fucking months. 

Then he’d called his mum. 

It was an easy enough sell: bigger property, more space to give the baby her own room, and a promise to foot the bill for one of those fancy custom kitchens that mum’s been dreaming ‘bout since he was a babe. 

Told her he’d have them packed up and moved in by the time she and the girls got back from Panama; was gonna to do his best to make the transition as seamless as possible. 

“Wut colour shall we paint your room luv?” He hums to himself, scraping the last spoonful out of the jar. “A nice purple? Hm? Or, wut about-” 

JB sits up suddenly from where he’s curled on the chair at Eggsy’s back, making a slight ‘boofing’ noise, ears alert. 

“Oi, wut’s it pup?” Eggsy frowns and sets the spoon down on the tray of Daisy’s high chair. His gaze flicks to the pug when he jumps off the chair, skittering out of the room with a sharp bark. 

Something suddenly strikes Eggsy as off and he raises to stand, ears straining. For a moment there’s nothing but the patter of JB’s nails across the hard wood floor. But then he hears it…the heavy creak of a footstep, somewhere down the hall. 

He’s instantly on edge, unbuckling his sister in quick, deft motions and hauling her up into the crook of his arm. She makes a gurgling noise of distress, curling her dirtied fingers in the stark white fabric of his sleep shirt.  
“Hush sweet’art, that’s my girl.” He carries her over to the large kitchen pantry, opening the door and setting her down inside. “You jus stay nice ‘n quite for your big bruv, kay? I’ll be right back.” 

“There you go.” He slowly eases the door shut, flicking off the light and wincing slightly when she makes a small noise of distress. 

It’s the best he can do for the moment, and he has no time to think on it. He makes a beeline for one of the kitchen cupboards and slides his palm along the base until he triggers the secret latch. The false compartment lowers down and he snags the ammo and gun that’s stashed there, loading it with a practiced ease.

“ _JB_? Here boy!” He calls, flicking off the safety and pressing his back to the wall. 

He can’t hear anything now, not the soft patter of JB’s claws across the ground, not his soft, snorting grunts, just…nothing. And then something moves. 

He takes a deep breath, gun poised and finger on the trigger. Then he rounds the corner, weapon raised and-

“ _Jesus Harry_.” 

His heart’s hammering so hard in his chest it hurts, pain squeezing down his torso. He clutches his breast and lowers the gun, pressing his back up against the wall. 

JB’s perched contentedly in Harry’s arms, licking at his hand like the traitor he is. “You didn’t change the locks.” 

The statement is so matter-of-fact that Eggsy can’t help but scoff. “Don’t mean you shouldn’t knock.” He lets his head drop against the wall and groans. “Give a bruv a heart attack you will.”

“My apologies.” Harry raises a brow over his eyepatch. “Given your penchant for barging through doors unannounced, I suppose I just assumed knocking wouldn’t be necessary.” 

Eggsy colours at the jab, groaning and flicking the safety back on. He slams the gun down on the hall table and runs a hand over his face. “ _Necessary_ , Harry I…I could’ve fucking shot you!” 

“You didn’t.” He points out, bending to set JB on the ground. 

“I could’ve tho! _Christ_ Harry. An’ where would that’ave left us, hm?” Eggsy’s eyes give a sharp sting and he swallows, storming forward to give his mentor’s shoulder a firm smack. “Right fucking back t’ square one, that’s where.” 

“ _Eggsy_.” Harry raises his hands in a calming gesture. “Again, I _am_ sorry. We didn’t have the privilege of privacy earlier…I wanted the chance to speak with you alone.” 

It feels like his heart is going to drum its way up his throat but somehow Eggsy manages to maintain his composure. He sniffs hard, rubs a hand under his nose and shrugs. “Yeah, ‘right. Guess you can come in.” He states, crossing his arms over his chest. “Though s’pose you’ve already done that so-”

He coughs a bit, blinking and trying to keep his cool. Harry’s always burned him up, even before this whole phoenix-rising-from-the-grave schtick. “Wut, can I get you tea er sumfin?” 

“Well, from the looks of you, I’ve interrupted dinner.” Harry raises a hand to Eggsy’s shirt where a smear of pureed sweet potato mars the crisp white surface.

“Fuckin’ hell, _Daisy_.” Turning on heel Eggsy races back into the kitchen, ears already tuned to the light noises of distress coming from the pantry. He yanks the door open to see his baby sister kneeling in the middle of the room, her eyes watering, but not quite to the point of tears. “By my word lil’ flower, look how good you’ve been!” 

“-ggy!” She reaches up for him and he sweeps her into his arms, smoothing his hands over her rounded face. Her little hands grasp at his shirt and she gurgles, dropping her face to rub against his shoulder. 

“There we are, there’s my girl.” He bounces her a touch until her breathing calms, his gaze flicking towards the kitchen doorway. He starts a little to see Harry standing there, leaning against the hard wooden frame and staring at him with his good eye. “Ah, s’pose neiver of you ‘ave met, ‘ave you?” 

“No, I can’t say we have.” Harry pushes off and into the room, strolling casually forward with his gaze still fixed firmly on Eggsy’s frame. 

He adjusts his grip on Daisy enough to draw her away from his chest, pointing to the older man and beaming at his sister. “Look who we’ve got ‘ere Daisy girl? This’s Mister Harry, he works wit your bruv at the tailor’s. Can you say hello?” 

He waves his hand as an example, and Daisy stares at him for a moment before slowly looking towards where Harry stands. It takes her a moment but she raises one hand, the other shoved firmly in her mouth, and offers him a shy wave. 

Eggsy glances up and is caught off guard by the wide, genuine smile that splits across Harry’s face. 

“A pleasure Daisy.” Arthur, the head of a secret spy organization, with a fucking eyepatch for a permanent fashion accessory, ducks down to Daisy’s level and reaches out, offering her his hand with a warm grin. “Aren’t you beautiful?” 

She hesitates for a moment before she curls her hand around one of Harry’s long, calloused fingers. And of course that’s about when she shoves it into her mouth. 

“ _Oi, Daisy-_ ”

“It’s quite alright.” Harry Hart laughs, _actually laughs_ , looking beyond delighted, and it’s right then and there that Eggsy realizes how completely and royally fucked he is. “She’s teething?” 

“Yeah, yeah mum says she’s a bit behind.” He blinks at his mentor, face steadily heating up as his heart hammers in his chest for an entirely _different_ reason. “Got some right nasty molars comin’ in. Has her fussin’ at night a fair bit.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Harry finally drags his gaze up from where he’s been taking in Daisy in all her snot-nosed-baby glory and offers Eggsy an imploring look. “May I?” 

“Ah-” Just when he thought he couldn’t be any more shocked, “oh sure, I mean, lemme get a cloth for ‘er hands real quick-”

“Nonesense, its fine.” 

And with that Harry Hart is scooping up his baby sister and her sweet-potato crusted fingers are smearing all over his pristine bespoke suit. “Oh my, aren’t you lovely.” 

Eggsy’s pretty sure that his expression is beyond comical. His jaw’s lying around somewhere on the kitchen floor by now because he’s bloody well _gaping_ at the scene in front of him. 

Harry Hart, Arthur, his boss, his mentor- has a knack for _kids_. 

Something hot and heavy twists in Eggsy’s gut and his eyes go impossibly wide. 

“I uh,” he stammers, taking a step back and tripping over his feet slightly, “I…the cloth-”

Harry is utterly distracted by the way his baby sister is running her hands over his jaw and Eggsy takes the chance to hastily makes his escape. 

He darts into the kitchen and braces himself against the sink, keeping his back to the pair in the dining room. It takes a few calming breaths before he’s even able to process how completely and utterly _turned on_ he is; and that is fifty kinds of _wrong_ , but he can’t seem to help himself. His heart is beating wildly in his ears and he could probably fry an egg on his cheeks right now his face is so damned heated. 

“Not good Eggsy, not fuckin’ good.” 

“ _What was that?_ ” 

Harry’s voice causes him to jump visibly. He glances nervously behind him and lets out a sigh of relief. His mentor’s still distracted, settled at the dining room table, holding Daisy’s hands while she stands on his knees and squeals in delight. 

“Nuffin!” He calls back hastily, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears and silently willing his body to calm the fuck down. 

Its adrenaline, he tries to tell himself, a residue of the violent shock he’s experienced today. 

It has absolutely nothing to do with the flickering flame of attraction that’s been burning through his gut since Harry’d first picked him up from the feds, and certainly has _zero_ relation to the instant, flabbergasting way that the older man has taken to his baby sister, _without so much as a blink_. 

“ _Get it together Eggsy_.” He hisses, giving his head a hard shake and turning the tap on with a vicious twist.

By the time he’s got the cloth all ready he’s calm enough to turn around without making a fool of himself. “Tell me she ‘asn’t made a mess o’ your good suit.”

“Its fine, I can always change back at HQ.” Harry looks up and accepts the wash cloth with a smile, his cheeks crinkling up beneath the thick black fabric of his eye patch. He manages to convince Daisy to stay still long enough to catch her fingers with the dampened fabric; yet another miracle for Eggsy to wrap his head around. 

“I still ‘ave your old suits.” He admits without even meaning to, the words coming out in a blur. “I ‘ave all your stuff still. Couldn’ bring m’self to toss it.” 

Harry actually looks startled at that, and Eggsy would feel a strong sense of accomplishment if he didn’t simultaneously feel like a massive creep. 

“Perhaps I’ll just change here then.” He states after a moment, mulling over the words carefully, slowly, like he’s waiting for Eggsy to offer more. 

“Ah well, maybe stay the night yeah? I mean, might as well.” He shrugs, trying hard to fight down the itch that crawls across his skin. “I mean s’not a bovver, s’your house anyhow.” 

“ _Yours_ now, technically.” Harry reminds him, taking the time to give Daisy’s mouth a quick wipe for good measure. 

“Nah mate, gone and bought another already, ‘aven’t I? An’ things’re the same as you left ‘em. Didn’t want to muck it up too much in case…I mean on th’ off chance you…” 

“ _Came back?_ ” 

Eggsy swallows hard and looks away. 

For a moment there’s nothing said between them. Only daisy’s soft cooing and gurgles fill the air while she squeezes across Harry’s cheeks, pudgy fingers moving to catch at his ears. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Eggsy swallows hard and nods, forces himself to drag his gaze back to where Harry sits; forces himself to remember that he’s really here, this is really happening, that this isn’t just some lofty dream.

“Right then.” He scratches at his chin and reaches out for his sister, offering Harry his best attempt at a smile. “Lemme get this devil in the bath before bed yeah?” 

“Alright.” Harry glances down to give Daisy one last bright smile before he lets Eggsy scoop her up, balancing her in his arms with a practiced ease. 

“Master’s been mine since-” he coughs and hikes his sister up a bit more against his ribs, “well, your clothes’re there still. Mine’re on the front hangers. Couldn’t be bovvered wit movin’ yours to storage.” 

More like he couldn’t bring himself to, but Harry doesn’t press. 

“Much appreciated.” 

“’elp yourself to the kitchen. Your liquor’s in th’ cabinet still.” Another thing he hadn’t been able to bring himself to touch. Eggsy offers one more weak smile and allows his sister to wrap her arms around his neck before he makes his escape, retreating deeper into the house. 

He tries not to think about the way his stomach twists, or how his heart is doing it’s very best to climb out of his mouth. 

Tries, and fails. 

\--

Getting Daisy in for a wash is always an eventful endeavour. As per usual it ends with more bathwater on Eggsy and the floor than in the tub, but he has a squeaky clean baby in the end and that’s all that really matters. 

Once he’s got her dried off and changed he comes back downstairs, a couple of books balanced in the crook of his elbow and Daisy clinging to his throat like the tiny monkey she is. 

“Harry?” He eases down the last step, padding into the kitchen to find Harry has changed and is lounging in his signature crimson robe. It looks so natural on him, and Eggsy bites his lip _hard_ to keep from admitting that he’s been wearing the damn thing almost daily. 

“Oh my.” Harry raises an eyebrow when he catches sight of him, his lips quirking into a smile. “I thought the bath was meant for Daisy.” 

“Regular comedian you are.” Eggsy rolls his eyes and sets the books down on the table at Harry’s front. “I was plannin’ on takin’ a shower. Tink you’re up fer readin’ to the lil’ un?” 

The older man positively lights up at the suggestion, already flipping over one of the hard cover titles with a look of interest. “Oh I _suppose_ I could spare a few minutes of my time.” 

“Ah Harry, you’re the guvner.” He gives Daisy a quick peck on the head and sets her down on the other agent’s lap, already backing towards the stairs. “I’ll just be a few, yeah?” 

“Take your time! I’m sure Miss Daisy here and I will be quite thoroughly occupied with the misadventures of Paddington Bear.” 

Eggsy doesn’t manage a response cause his tongue sticks with the way his mouth goes dry. He just smiles and offers Harry a weak nod, turning to jog back up to the bathroom with his ears burning red. 

Something about seeing one Harry Hart looking so damned domestic is doing horrible things to his composure. 

It’s nothing that a thorough, decidedly cold shower doesn’t fix. 

By the time he finally steps out from underneath the cool spray he’s just about scrubbed his damned skin off. Every inch of him has been viciously rubbed down, and while it stings somewhat when he glances over his limbs with the soft, plush towel, it also leaves him feeling clean and rejuvenated. 

He slides into his jams, tossing his dirtied sleep shirt in the hamper on the way past his room; no, it’s not his room is it. It’s Harry’s room. 

He bites down hard on his split lip, glancing around to take in the dated décor that he just couldn’t bring himself to touch. It’s no use trying to lie to himself; he’d been holding out for hope. Hope that one day Harry Hart would magically not be dead; that he’d never been shot down in front of some fucking bible-thumping-bullshit-church way across the pond where Eggsy couldn’t reach him. 

He’d never really thought his hopes stood a chance. 

But boy was he wrong.

Shaking his head he starts back downstairs. He heads into the kitchen at a jog, planning to scoop up his little bit and bring her up to bed, and is quite thoroughly stopped in his tracks. 

Daisy’s pressed up with her back against Harry’s chest, one hand fisted into the fabric of his robe while the other’s shoved haphazardly into her mouth. Her eyes are drooping, head tucked against the man’s collar bone. 

And then there’s Harry. 

Fucking _Harry Hart_. 

God the man is bad for Eggsy’s health. 

Here’s his mentor, a highly trained secret agent with a very particular skillset for murking unpleasant types, sitting in his damned jammies reading the jolly postman in his posh, high-bred accent, with JB curled up on his lap at Daisy’s side-

Eggsy can’t even bring himself to interrupt. Instead he hovers in the doorway, pressing his shoulder up against the wall. He leans there and desperately tries not to dwell on the strange fluttering feeling in his chest. Tries being the key word. 

The whole thing feels dangerously close to perfect…and that _terrifies_ him. 

“ _Eggsy_.” 

“Hm?” He must’ve gotten lost in thought cause when he glances back up from the book in Harry’s hand the older man is staring at him, his expression impossibly fond. Eggsy flushes guiltily, scratching at his chin with a self-conscious shrug. “Sorry, didn’ mean t’ stare.” 

“Not at all.” Harry shakes his head and eases the book shut. After a quick scratch to the head he urges JB off of his lap, moving to stand with Daisy curled up against his chest. “This one’s about to fall asleep as is.” 

“Uh huh, ‘can see dat.” His face is still burning hot but he feels more at ease, comforted by the casual way Harry saunters up to him, his baby sister tucked under his chin. 

Then he glances back to his face and that patch sets a cold, spike of discomfort in his gut. He steps forward before he can stop himself, once again bringing his hand to Harry’s cheek. Without his glasses on there’s nothing in the way of his fingers when he traces the edges of the fabric there, brows screwing up in concern. “Not used t’ this yet.” 

Harry actually leans into Eggsy’s touch, his good eye closing for a moment while he hums his ascension. “Honestly? Can’t say it’s grown on me much either.” 

He nods and drops his hand away, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Does ‘ave certain charm though, don’it? 

“I suppose.” Harry cracks his eye back open and the look he gives him is complex, unreadable. Then he raises his hand up and gestures towards his cheek, nodding in Eggsy’s direction. “Quite the shiner you’ve got there.” 

“ _Oh_.” Eggsy prods at his own cheek and smiles, shrugging. “Got on the wrong end ov a mean right hook.” 

“You should put salve on that lip too.” Harry reaches out with the arm not wrapped beneath Daisy’s bottom, his finger just barely brushing along the edge of Eggsy’s mouth. “Looks like it stings.”

“Ha, y’ should see the other bloke.” Eggsy’s smile widens and he’s positively preening. So he might still be working on the on the whole ‘modesty’ part of being a gentleman. 

“I did.” Harry tells him pointedly, brows raising. He lowers his hand and his expression shifts slightly, not just pleased, not just proud, but something deeper, darker-

The thought of Harry, newly appointed Arthur, sitting in Merlin’s office, watching him while he pummels a man twice his size into the asphalt is enough to make Eggsy _squirm_. 

“S’bout Daisy’s bedtime.” He murmurs, his teeth catching on his lower lip a bit. It stings, but he hardly notices, too distracted by the way Harry’s gaze meets his own, cool and calculating. “Get us sumfin to drink yeah? We can ‘ave a chat in your office once I get ‘er to sleep.” 

Harry surrenders the baby when Eggsy reaches for her, gaze still fixed, unwavering, on his face. “A nice scotch, perhaps?” 

There was a time when scotch would have been too strong a drink for Eggsy’s taste, but he’s a gentleman now, and gentlemen like their spirits. “Make mine a double.” He allows himself to flash Harry his signature wink, smiling while he hitches his sister further up against his shoulder. He pauses as he gets to the stairs, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. “On second thought, best bring up the whole bottle, yeah?” 

“Fair enough.” 

\---

Eggsy takes his time putting Daisy down; he even sings to her, and everyone knows he can’t carry a tune in a bucket. She seems to like it anyways, staring up at him dazedly from her crib. He leaves her sucking on her sussie when her eyes drop shut, sneaking out the doorand leaving JB curled up, snoring contentedly in the center of the room. 

He hovers in the hall for a moment, more-so putting off the inevitable conversation waiting for him in the next room than anything else. Sad, ball-less excuse for a bloke he can be at times. It takes him a good few minutes to work up the courage to head down the hall, pushing forward into the office without pausing first to peek. 

A drink’s already poured and waiting for him, set out in front of Harry like a silent invitation.

“Oi, that’s some strong shit.” He strolls into the room and lets out a laugh, the sound coming out more nervous than he’d intended. When he gets close enough he scoops up the tumbler that’s perched on the edge of the desk. “Swear, smell it down the hall I could.”

“This, Eggsy, is a Balvenie, Single Malt Speyside Scotch Whisky.” Harry’s lounged back in his office chair, legs crossed and glass balanced effortlessly beneath his nose. He inhales slowly, good eye closing while a look of pleasure flits across his face. “ _Forty years old._ ” 

Harry takes a sip and Eggsy bites down on the swell of his split lip. “Still smells rank.” 

With a small smile he peels his eye back open once more, tapping his mouth with the glass. “An acquired taste.” 

“Wasted on a bruv like me I’d wager.” 

“ _Wasted?_.” Harry hums, the sound contemplative and soft. “A drink is only wasted when not enjoyed in good company.” 

Eggsy clears his throat and takes his own sip. The bite is sharp but not entirely unpleasant. He takes a moment to stare into the glass before he nods to the chair in the corner, flicking his eyes up to meet Harry’s gaze. “Mind?” 

“Not at all.” 

He doesn’t mention how strange it is to be on this side of the desk; how odd it feels not to be where Harry’s sitting, pouring over his files and trying oh so desperately to not to think of the shoes he’d been trying to fill. 

“Right, Mr. Hart.” Eggsy shakes his head and tries for a new subject, a weak attempt at clearing his head. “Nevver pegged you as a domestic. How’s it you’re so good wit kids?” 

“I’m hardly domestic.” Harry actually lets out a chuckle, the sound deep and rich in the quiet of the house. “Never had kids myself, but I do have a nephew who I’m quite fond of.” 

“ _Shut up._ ” He can’t help the sheer delight that flashes across his face. “Uncle Harry are you now?” 

“What?” The man scoffs and swallows down another mouthful. “I’m not allowed to have family then?” 

“’course not! I just never f’ought of it before.” A lie. He’s thought about it plenty since the church. Figured Harry didn’t have no one, ‘cause if he did they would have showed up, would’ve made a claim for the house or something. “Where they live then? They local?” 

“No, no my sister buggered off with some Persian dandy years ago.” He sounds aggravated at the thought, and Eggsy can’t help but grin. 

“No fan ov the in-laws then?” 

“Let’s just say one annual evening of their distinguished company is far more than I can handle.” With a shudder Harry knocks back the rest of his scotch, nose scrunching. “Never understood the draw of Paris.” 

“’ow old is ‘e then?” 

“Twelve as of April.” He sits forward some, looking lost in thought. “Can’t say where the time goes-”

“Bruv, don’ I know it.” The scotch is warming Eggsy’s belly and he lounges back, tongue starting to loosen. “The time I spent wit you durin’ trainin’ was gone like that-” he snaps his fingers and finishes his glass, swallowing with his nose crinkled up, “’den Kentucky ‘appened, an time jus’ sorta dragged on by.” 

He gestures his hand in the air before cupping the tumbler between his palms. “Nevver felt a night so long as my first one ‘ere witout you.” His breath catches and he struggles to clear his throat. “Seems you was gone for years, an’ now ‘ere you are. Sittin’ right in front ‘a me, all breavin an’ such.” 

“Eggsy…” 

“Sorry, bit of a downer.” He rubs at the bridge of his nose and pushes to his feet, already strolling forward to the desk. “’nother drink? I’ll pour.” 

When he reaches for the bottle something catches his hand, Harry’s grip firm around his wrist. 

“ _Eggsy._ ” It takes a moment to force himself to meet Harry’s gaze, his teeth digging down into his damaged lip. “I wish we could have told you sooner.” 

“S’fine.” Eggsy lets out a sigh and shifts his hand until he can give Harry’s a squeeze. It’s the best he can do at reassurance for the moment. “M’sure you an’ Merlin ‘ad your reasons.” 

“We did.” Harry doesn’t let go right away, and Eggsy suddenly recognizes the sincere regret across his face. “A lot happened after that day.”

“M’ all ears if you’re in th’ mood for sharin’.” 

Harry mulls over it for a moment before he finally gives Eggsy his hand back, reclining in his seat. “It’s not so interesting a story as you might assume.” 

“Like gettin’ shot in the face ain’t a story werf sharin’.” Eggsy scoffs and scoops up the scotch bottle. He saunters around to perch on the edge of the desk, right at Harry’s front, and pours a generous amount of scotch in his glass. “’sides, we ‘ave all night. Wut’s there t’lose?” 

“Well, if you insist.” Shrugging Harry surrenders his tumbler at Eggsy’s behest, watching him pour while he licks his lips thoughtfully. “Not much to say about the first two months. I’m told I was in quite the state.” 

Eggsy hands back his drink and shifts further onto the desk, swinging his feet slightly and gripping at the edge of the wood. 

“Once I came to it still took three weeks of surgery to deal with this mess-” he gestures vaguely to the eyepatch and brings his glass to his lips, taking a generous swallow, “and another four to get my cognitive functions up to par.” 

Harry makes a contemplative sound, his gaze growing distant. “Odd thing the brain is. For a time I couldn’t even say my own name, and look at me now. Articulate and charming as ever.” 

“Hard t’ think of you as anyting but charming.” Eggsy admits, shifting to squeeze his own glass between his palms. 

Harry lets out a light laugh and meets his gaze, smiling sadly. “Perhaps we should have told you sooner. I just-” the sigh that escapes him is wearied and heavy, “I rather thought I would avoid having you see me in such a sad state. Somehow I thought it would make it all harder.” 

“Dunno ‘bout that mate.” He takes another drink and kicks his foot out, nudging it lightly against Harry’s knee. “Don’t get much harder than t’inking you was dead.” 

“Eggsy,” the older man makes a wounded noise and reaches out, his hand landing across Eggsy’s thigh like a brand, “I can’t even begin to express how sorry I am-”

“S’alright.” 

“No, it’s not aright-”

“It is though.” Eggy’s dropping a hand down to squeeze over Harry’s wrist before he can stop himself. “’cause you’re here. Not dead. Not missin’. Right ‘ere, in your house, where you’re meant t’ be.”

Licking his lips he pushes forward, dragging his thumb across the back of Harry’s hand. “Bein’ in this room, seein’ that gun t’your head-”

He swallows, glancing up in time to see a dark flash of something slide across Harry’s expression. The heat that’s been broiling in his gut all day spikes up once more. Shifting on the desk he tries to clamp down on it; only to have the hand on his thigh tenses somewhat, sliding further along his leg until it’s dangerously close to the juncture of his hip. 

Eggsy’s breath hitches. He glances down, gut clenching on a sharp flare of heat when Harry tightens his grip, fingers digging in _just so_. It takes everything Eggsy has not to squirm into the touch. His cheeks are flaming, and he can feel his dick stir with interest in his sleep pants. He tries to will it away, but when he looks back up again Harry’s watching him with a sort of intensity that leaves him breathless. 

Harry keeps his gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip and really, it’s as close to an invite as Eggsy’s going to get. 

He swallows hard and catches the man’s hand, peeling it off of his thigh. Then he drags it up, pressing his lips to the calloused knuckles firmly. 

“You’re ‘ere now. An’ I’m not lettin’ you go so easy this time.” 

There’s a moment where nothing happens, where Eggsy’s thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s read his cards wrong. The weighted silence that seems to stretch between them is _deafening_ and he gets this horrible feeling that he’s about to be decked in the nose. 

So it’s hardly surprising that he just about drops Harry’s nice tumbler glass when the hand at his mouth shoots out, wrapping around the back of his neck. 

His eyes widen and his jaw goes slack when Harry closes in, pressing their lips together in a chaste, open kiss. 

It’s so brief that Eggsy hardly gets the chance to process it. Then as soon as it started Harry’s pulling back, good eye half lidded and his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. The man reclines easily against his chair and Eggsy’s left just staring, a slow burn like hunger creeping up into his chest. 

“What was that then?” He means to go for cool and collected but the words just sorta, _slip out_. Harry, as per usual, just looks obnoxiously composed. 

Eggsy wants nothing more than to make a _wreck_ of that cool.

“I would think that someone with your _breadth of experience_ would have the wherewithal to recognize a simple kiss.” His tone is so dry that Eggsy has to squint to pick up on the slight quirk of his lips.

And really, really, they should _talk_ about this. ‘Cause Eggsy ain’t even sure what _this_ is. But the bait’s set and he can’t help but bite, reaching behind him to set down his glass. “You call that a kiss? Let an ‘experienced’ bruv show you how it’s done.” 

He reaches down to catch Harry by his robe collar, dragging him back up to slot their mouths together firmly. He puts too much force behind it at first, his split lip stinging violently at the contact. If anything the sharp bite of pain just makes it better, pleasure bubbling up so quickly that his stomach gives a hard flip. It’s a struggle to swallow back the sharp noise that wells up in his throat, but somehow he manages. 

Harry goes easily with his demanding pull, rising from the chair to set his own glass down with a clack. He looms over the desk, hands coming up to squeeze at Eggsy’s face, a thumb slotting into the meat of his jaw and forcing his mouth to open. The pressure fits right against his bruise, sending a stinging spike across his face and causing him to gasp. 

His sound gets swallowed down by the firm press of Harry’s lips, his tongue sliding in to flick up against the roof of Eggsy’s mouth. The sensation sends sharp sparks of heat down his spine, causing him to squirm where he’s perched, knees bracketing Harry’s hips. 

The grip on his chin is burning, but it hurts in all the right ways. It makes him yern for surrender, fingers itching to just drag Harry over top of him and let him have his way. The heat that’s been haunting him all day flares up with a fiery vengeance, eating away his resolve and leaving him breathless. He wants nothing more than to give in to Harry, to allow himself to be controlled, _consumed_. 

But Eggsy Unwin is not so easily outdone.

He reaches up, dragging his fingers along Harry’s scalp. He catches momentarily on the thick fabric of the eye patch before he manages to fist his hands in the older man’s hair. With a sharp tug he drags Harry’s head back, taking in his winded breath with no small amount of satisfaction. 

The long line of his neck is too tempting to pass up. Eggsy leans forward through the grip on his face, catching at the side of Harry’s throat with lips and tongue. He doesn’t quite get the reaction he’s looking for, ‘cause Harry’s breathing’s still even and his pulse is steady beneath his mouth, but he’s not about to give up. With a frustrated noise he bites down, catching at the skin just beneath Harry’s jaw. 

“ _Ah-_ ” 

The small sound sends a spark of victorious glee through him and he pulls back to beam up at the older man…only to find him smiling in return, cool, calm-

“ _Oh fuck_ -” He’s distracted just long enough for Harry to get his hands down over his arse, cupping him firmly and dragging their bodies closer. Eggsy’s left teetering precariously on the edge of the desk, pinned between Harry’s firm grip and the hard line of his body against his front. “You don’t muck about-”

“No, no I do not.” When Harry’s grip tightens Eggsy’s whole body jumps. His mouth drops open and he makes a noise like he’s wounded. It takes him a moment to force himself to glance back up, and when he does Harry’s expression is deadly serious. The hard set of his lip is a complete contrast to the way his fingers are digging, curling tight in the fabric of Eggsy’s pyjama bottoms. “ _I take it you’ve done this before?_ ” 

The question catches him off guard and he looks up, dropping his hands down from where they’re curled in the older man’s hair to brace against his shoulders instead. “Oi, ‘ave you not heard ‘bout the whole Princess Tilde stint?” He shoots back, offended that his sexual prowess is suddenly being questioned. “May be young, but I’ve ‘ad my fair share of tail in my time, get me?” 

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Harry raises his brow and uses the grip on Eggsy’s ass to drag him impossibly close. Their groins slot together and for a moment he’s scrambling not to cuss, blood rushing south so fast he gets dizzy. 

It takes him more time to regain his composure than he’d care to admit. It’s no easy task with each shift of his hips dragging their groins together roughly. “Been wit a bloke before, yeah, if that’s your meanin’. Experience may be lackin’ there sumwhut, but I’ll ‘ave you know-” 

He collects himself enough to slide a leg around Harry’s back, using the added leverage to grind himself up in a slow, sensuous roll. “If t’night don’t end wit you fuckin’ me senseless over this desk…”

Harry’s composure slips momentarily, his good eye flickering shut while something close to a growl escapes him. “As much as I hate to disappoint,” he manages, sounding strained for the first time that night, “without protection and lube I will do no such thing.” 

Eggsy blinks up at him, mouth falling open. _Oh_.

“ _Fuckin’ hell_.” He groans, frustration resting heavy and bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t have much in the way of supplies here. Hasn’t tupped anyone since Tilde and _certainly_ hasn’t had the presence of mind to bring anyone home. What with getting his fam settled, and with diving into his new gig, stocking up hardly seemed necessary. “The one time I don’t ‘ave a fuckin’ johnnie-”

“ _An oversight we’ll have to correct in the morning._ ” 

“Right.” Eggsy slowly releases his grip on Harry’s shoulders. He’s trying not to let the disappointment show on his face, cause he’s not a child, and he can handle a let-down…even if it _is_ a bitter one.

“Honestly Eggsy.” Harry doesn’t release him, in fact he does quite the opposite, tightening his fingers where they’re curled over the round of his arse, “you look like I’ve just shot your damned dog.” 

“ _Oi_ ,” he protests, unable to keep his lip from jutting out in annoyance, “don’ joke about that shit bruv.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and leans forward until he’s got their foreheads pressed together. The fabric of his eyepatch is surprisingly soft against Eggsy’s brow and he sighs, trying to school back his sour look when he meets Harry’s gaze. 

“First off, when I fuck you, and let me be perfectly clear, I _will_ fuck you Eggsy,” it sounds so damned posh rolling off his tongue that he can’t help but shudder bodily, “but when I do, it won’t be on this desk. It’ll be in a suitable bed, after a nice meal and a well-aged bottle of wine.”

Harry mulls over the words, dragging each one out in his easy, high-class drawl. “I will fuck you properly, _thoroughly_ , and you will be _screaming_ for it. Is that clear?” 

Eggsy’s tongue’s suddenly feels thick like cotton and all he can do is nod. 

“ _Secondly_ -” Harry yanks him forward so suddenly that he has to scramble to get his grip back on that ridiculous dressing robe. With an unreasonable sort of ease the older man hauls him up, shifting his hands to brace beneath his thighs and backing towards the chair. Once the back of his knees hit the seat he drops down, causing Eggsy to land sprawled across his lap. The change leaves him reeling, unbalanced, his stomach tightening with a hard flip. Seems Harry has him where he wants him, splayed out, legs spread wide to straddle his hard thighs. He drags his hands back up to bracket Eggsy’s waist and presses his mouth just below his ear. “- I never said we were _finished_.” 

“ _Yes Harry_.” The groan he lets out is cracked and shaky but he doesn’t bother feeling embarrassed over it. Instead he busies himself with grinding down on Harry’s lap, fingers cupping the man’s face when he leans down for a wet, open-mouthed kiss. 

It’s hot, messy, and Eggsy can’t get enough of it. He catches Harry’s tongue with his teeth, dragging back on it and trying to nudge the robe off his shoulders some. It’s hardly fair, Eggsy’s isn’t even wearing a shirt and here Harry is, just as covered as always. Man is the picture of modesty and it is maddening. He swears he’s barely got so much as a glimpse of Harry’s collar bone right now; but even that tiny sliver of flesh is enough to have Eggsy gagging for it. 

Blunt nails dig into his bare shoulder blades and drag down, the delicious scrape causing his whole body to jolt. He breaks the kiss and arches his back, momentarily forgetting his goal when his fingers twitch away from the fabric of Harry’s robe. “Ah, fuck.” 

“My my, what a filthy mouth you have tonight.” Harry chides, taking the moment of distraction to lean forward, sinking his teeth into the junction of Eggsy’s throat and shoulder. 

“Oh, oh _Jesus_.” Eggsy’s straining in his lap, grinding his hips down in earnest while Harry’s wandering hands slide down his back. His whole body jolts when they slip beneath the fabric of his sleep trousers, fitting over his arse with a hard squeeze. “Lemme off your lap an’ I’ll show you what this filthy mouth can do-” 

“ _Tempting_ ,” Harry mouths his way back up Eggsy’s throat, causing the younger man to shudder violently. He tips his head to the side for better access and rocks down against Harry’s groin. “But I’ll have to take a rain check. We’ve got other plans for the evening.” 

“Ngh, do we?” He can feel his pyjama bottoms dampen where his cock is tented, straining against the soft fabric. It’s impossible to keep still; he’s never been so hard in his life. 

“We do.” The words slide past his ear in a rumbling breath and suddenly Harry bites down, catching his lobe between his teeth. 

He shifts his hands from where they’re wrapped over Eggsy’s arse to tug down on his pyjama bottoms. The fabric slides easily enough over the swell of his cheeks but snags on his cock, causing him to squirm. 

“Changed your mind ‘bout fuckin’ me?” He teases, breath coming out short. 

“Not quite.” Harry tightens his grip before hoists Eggsy up in his lap. 

“ _Oi, what-_ ”

It’s laughable how easily he manages to manhandle Eggsy, flipping him around until he’s got his back to Harry’s chest, bare ass pressed up against his groin. Four months off duty apparently hasn’t done anything to chip away at that raw, brutal strength. 

“ _Oh_.” The sound that escapes Eggsy is positively embarrassing. He squirms, grinding back against the body behind him from his new position. 

With a deep growl Harry tightens his grip, dragging his palms down Eggsy’s hips viciously. He catches his fingers in the fabric of his pyjama pants where they’re trapped around his thighs, tearing them down until the elastic stops at his knees. His cock bounces up immediately when it’s freed, slamming against his stomach with a wet smear of pre-cum. Harry hums in satisfaction, shifting purposefully beneath him. “Mm, I think this will do nicely.” 

“What’re you gonna do?” Eggsy is not whining, because Kingsmen don’t whine. 

“Patience is a virtue.” Harry chides softly, still shifting beneath Eggsy until suddenly he’s working his trousers down too. He doesn’t slide them all the way off, stopping once his cock slides free, thick and hot like a brand against Eggsy’s arse. 

“ _Ngh_.” He can’t help but wiggle backwards, his dick twitching where its’ arched up against his stomach. “M’pretty sure chastity’s one of them virtues. Ain’t neiver of us got that, now do we?” 

“No Eggsy,” Harry grips at his thighs, prying them apart just enough for his cock to slide up in between them, “ _no we do not._ ” 

His hips give a violent jerk when Harry’s cock slips against his balls. On instinct his legs begin to part, pleasure pooling in his gut, but they’re halted by Harry’s firm grip. 

“Ah ah, none of that now.” 

“Oh fuck.” Realization hits him so suddenly that it’s hard to breathe. He sucks in desperately through his nose, fighting back the high, desperate noise that threatens to escape him. 

_Harry Hart_ is gonna give it to him _Oxford Style_. The thought causes his cock to twitch, precum leaking across his taught belly. He groans and squeezes his legs together at Harry’s urging, muscles tensing around the hard line of heat between his thighs. “ _Fuck_.” 

“That _is_ the general idea.” Harry leans forward to seal his mouth over Eggsy’s shoulder, kissing along to the junction of his throat and giving his hips an experimental thrust. The motion sets the younger man bouncing across his lap. Eggsy just barely manages to keep his thighs pressed together, breath hitching at the feel of Harry’s cock sliding against his own. 

“Oh, jesus, like that.” With his head tilted back he focusses on squeezing down with his thighs, muscles straining. He’s got his hands bracing over the sides of the chair now, giving him the leverage he needs to lift up before squirming backwards against Harry’s groin. 

The rhythm doesn’t quite work straight off the bat. Harry’s cock sticks a bit against the dry grate of his skin; but the man is thick, dripping, and hard as steel. It takes almost no time at all for Eggsy’s thighs to dampen with the soak of pre-cum. He’s not much better off himself, cock slick and shining where it bounces against his belly. In what seems like no time at all Harry’s thrusting freely between his legs, the friction delicious in a way that makes his toes curl. 

It’s absurd, but somehow the whole thing seems dirtier than straight fucking: more _obscene_. His thighs are trembling with exertion, his whole body taught. The pleasure’s got him in a hard vice and he can hardly remember to suck in air through his clenched teeth. 

And the sounds-

Wet and _filthy_ , almost deafening in the way they echo through Eggsy’s skull. 

His cock gives another violent throb. It’s downright painful how hard he is. He wiggles backwards, his mouth dropping open in a trembling gasp. 

“Ngh, oh god, _oh_ -”

“Breathe Eggsy.” One of Harry’s hands comes up to slide over his chest. He presses down hard, the pressure firm and soothing. “Don’t forget to breathe.” 

Eggsy wants to laugh, cause if he could breathe right now, he would. His lungs feel tight, like his entire torso’s been locked up in the tight grip of pleasure that’s eating away at him. Each desperate gasp comes out wet, ragged, and he’s struggling just to keep his vision from spotting out. “Easier said than done bruv-”

Harry’s rhythm stutters somewhat and he drops his hand down to squeeze viciously over Eggsy’s hip. 

“Have I ever told you how much I hate it when you call me that?” The words come out in a half-snarl, but Eggsy doesn’t have the presence of mind left to appreciate the way Harry’s slowly coming undone. “I swear, if I hear that damned word come out of your mouth one more time-”

He struggles to crane his head over his shoulder, slack mouth twitching up in his best attempt at a smirk. “Wut y’ gonna do ‘bout it…” he pauses, letting the word roll off his tongue like sweet honey, “… _bruv_.” 

The noise Harry makes is positively animalistic. Eggsy has about half a second to dwell on his deep self-satisfaction before strong hands close over his shoulders, hauling him up and off of the older man’s lap. He stumbles forward on shaky legs, just barely managing to catch himself against the desk before his legs give out. With his hands splayed out against the wood he moves to look over his shoulder, agitation already building. 

“ _Oi_ , was that really necess-”

A firm hand on his shoulder shoves him down against the desk, Harry’s body crowding up at his back to bear down over him. He’s pinned to the hard surface from cheek to stomach, palms scrambling for purchase against the polished wood. 

Then Harry’s dragging his fingers down, raking them over Eggsy’s spine. When he finally slides them up and over the hard curve of his ass he prise his thighs apart again, sliding his cock between them in a hard, punishing thrust. 

“Oh, oh _fuck_ -”

Eggsy feels like his legs are about to give out. It takes everything he has just to keep them squeezed together, and he’s got this horrible feeling that his body is about to collapse beneath him. So he throws his palms out, desperately seeking out something to anchor him, to keep him from crumbling to the ground-

“ _\- got you Eggsy. I’ve got you._ ” 

He must be too fucking far gone to function because he doesn’t even recognize that Harry’s talking until the older man shoves an arm beneath his hips, holding him up while he ruts against him viciously. 

There’s not much Eggsy can do to help at this point. He doesn’t have a chance at keeping up with Harry’s punishing pace; there’s nothing he can do but just press himself against the desk, arching his back and squeezing down over the thick line of the cock between his thighs. 

“Oh, fuck, never knew you was this good Harry, never-” He squirms as best as he can but Harry doesn’t let up, not even for a second. He’s got no choice but to just take it, his entire frame spasming with the building friction against his cock. 

It’s embarrassing to say but he’s _not_ going to last like this. 

He’s so painfully hard that he can’t see straight, pre-cum dripping down to pool where Harry’s fucking between his thighs. If Harry doesn’t slow down, if he doesn’t give him a chance to breathe-

“Harry, Harry wait I-” Eggsy scrambles to reach back with one hand, stretching to try and find the older man at his back. 

Fingers close over his wrist and his arm is slammed down against his back. He makes a winded, desperate noise, his mind clouding over and his body squirming violently against his will. 

Then without warning a firm, calloused hand wraps around their cocks. The pleasure burns so hot that it knocks the wind out of Eggsy, his entire frame convulsing and a strangled ‘ _Ah!_ dropping from his lips. 

He feels almost helpless in Harry’s hard grip; no choice but to give in to the brutal pace that the bigger man picks up. So he stops trying to resist, just _takes_ it, free hand scrambling for purchase against the smooth desk surface. 

“Ah, ah fuck I’m not-” The hard burn of pleasure coils thick in his gut and he can feel his balls start to rise up. He’s close, _too close_. “Harry, I won’ last, I’m gonna, I-”

“ _Good_.” Harry tightens his grip, pounding in between Eggsy’s thighs and palming over his cock, relentless. 

There’s no way to stop the squirming now, Eggsy presses cheek down in the desk and arches his back up, heat pooling over and flooding across his skin. 

When he cums, his whole body tightens like a vice. 

Every limb strains, his eyes screwing shut and his muscles convulsing violently. 

He makes a mess out of Harry’s hand, his balls drawn taught to his body and his cock throbbing as his orgasm is milked from him in firm, even strokes. 

Holding himself up is suddenly not an option anymore. His weight falls against the desk heavily and his legs slide apart of their own accord. 

“ _Not yet_.”

Harry releases his arm without warning, both hands coming to close over the outer edge of Eggsy’s thighs. He shoves them closed, coming down to plaster across his back. He presses his nose to the top of Eggsy’s spine, breath coming out in hard pants while he fucks viciously between the younger man’s legs. 

Eggsy doesn’t even want to think about the noises that are slipping from his mouth. His cock is completely spent, pain and pleasure muddling through him with each of Harry’s hard, punishing thrusts. His body’s trembling so hard that it’s a struggle just to keep his teeth from chattering. 

Overstimulated is a total understatement. 

He almost sobs in relief when Harry’s rhythm begins to stutter and slow, cock throbbing between his clenched thighs. The older man makes a choked noise, pressing his face up into the back of Eggsy’s neck and biting down, _hard_. 

When he finally comes it’s with a muffled groan, working over the skin in his teeth while his orgasm drips down Eggsy’s legs to his knees. 

“Oh Jesus.” He gasps wetly and splays his palms out against the hard wood of the desk. He’s still got his cheek pressed against the polished surface, breath coming out quick and unsteady. “Oh Jesus fuck.”

Harry doesn’t say anything at first. He does, however, slowly release the skin he has trapped between his teeth, pressing an apologetic kiss to the readily blossoming bruise. Then after a few steadying breaths he drops his hands down from where they’re clenched over Eggsy’s thighs, allowing the younger man to slide them open with a groan of relief. 

“Shit,” Eggsy’s legs feel heavy like lead and there’s nothing he can do to stop them from slipping out from under him, “shit-”

“Easy.” Despite the winded edge to his tone Harry still has the strength to catch him before he falls. He drags Eggsy upright, twisting him around and manhandling him back up onto the edge of the desk.

“Thanks.” His sleep pants slip down past his knees, part of the fabric catching on his ankle while the rest pools on the ground. He’s completely exposed, but Harry, as per usual, is fully clothed. He watches the older man tuck himself back into his trousers, a few hairs askew, robe open and shirt somewhat rumpled; but otherwise he’s the picture of composure. “ _That’s downright unfair._ ” 

Harry flashes him a questioning look, straightening the waist line of his pants before stepping up into the younger man’s space once more. Eggsy’s so fucking glad that he doesn’t have to ask. He lets the heavy weight of Harry’s arm around his shoulders drag him closer and presses his face gratefully into the junction of his throat. 

“Didn’ even get to see an inch of skin now did I?” He’s not whining, he’s just expressing his very reasonable concerns. Harry steps up closer into the spread of his legs, and Eggsy would warn him off, cause he’s sticky and Harry’s got that nice robe on, but the older man doesn’t seem to care. He rests his chin against the top of Eggsy’s head, his hand sliding across his spine in a smooth comforting motion. 

“You find my state of dress disagreeable?” Harry’s tone is light and teasing, and Eggsy can practically see the way he’s raising his eyebrows at him, that posh smirk on those stupid, fucking, kissable lips. 

“Pretty sure the norm’s to be in a state of _undress_ after a thorough shag.” Eggsy lets his arms wrap around Harry’s chest, knees tightening where they bracket the older man’s hips. “I mean, would it kill ye to show me some skin?” 

“Hm,” He makes a contemplated noise, the sound rumbling against Eggsy’s cheek, “I s’pose we could remedy that by having a quick wash together.” 

“ _Aces!_ ” Eggsy draws himself back to beam up at Harry, only to have the smile turn sheepish at the look of exasperated affection on his face. “Er, I mean, yes _please_.” 

Harry lets out a chuckle and drags his hands up to cup Eggsy’s cheek. This time he’s careful to maneuver around the darkened bruise there, tilting his head to regard him thoughtfully. The patch still looks so foreign on his face, a dark swath of fabric that really just _doesn’t_ belong there. As he’s staring at it a hard punch of emotion suddenly twists in his gut. Eggsy sucks in hard through his nose, trying to ease the painful vice that grips his heart without warning. 

The change doesn’t go unnoticed. Harry brings himself closer, dropping down to press their foreheads together while he smoothes his thumbs over his cheeks. “You okay Eggsy? I’ve got you.” 

It’s like he knows exactly what to say to make Eggsy’s stomach flip. He tries to nod his head, breathing through the startling urge to cry that overcomes him. 

“ _Okay._ ” It’s been such a long day, full of more twists and surprises than his heart can handle. The last shreds of adrenaline are dropping away with the aftershocks of his orgasm and he’s got nothing left to keep him together; nothing to stop the hard shake of his hands when he drags them up to fold over Harry’s own. “Sorry, sorry. Thought I got all this out wit Rox earlier-”

“ _Eggsy_.” 

How the man manages to say so much with one word is astonishing; but suddenly Eggsy knows. He knows it’s alright to cry, to let it out, that Harry’s not leaving, not judging him for it.

“I just _can’t believe you’re really here_.” His voice cracks and there’s a small flare of humiliation that sparks up in him. He’s already done his fair share of crying today, the last thing he needs is to do more, but here he is, tears stinging his eyes and mouth quivering, hard. “I just…’ow do I know for sure it’s real? That I won’ wake tomorrow to you bein’ dead again. That I’m not ‘aving another one of dem fucked up dreams-” 

It’s a stupid fear, and he feels stupid for voicing it, but Harry doesn’t chide him. Instead his hands tighten on Eggsy’s cheeks, a noise of concern escaping him. 

“I can’t make any promises for the future. You know better than anyone what our job entails. But that being said-” He leans forward, sealing their mouths together briefly. When he pulls back he doesn’t go far, hovering so close that their lips brush when he speaks. “I’m here now Eggsy, and I’m here to stay.” 

With a shaky nod Eggsy presses forward, stealing another, longer kiss, because _somehow_ he’s allowed. He can have this. He can have Harry motherfucking Hart. When he draws back it’s with a cheeky smile and a sniffle. “You best be stickin’ around. Promised to wine and dine me, didn’ you? Don’t take that sort of fing lightly Harry.” 

“Nor do I.” The older man tilts his head up, pressing his mouth to Eggsy’s forehead in a chaste kiss. “Now, shall we get cleaned up before bed?” 

“Do I get to strip you outta that fuckin’ robe of yours?” Eggsy shoots back, unable to keep from beaming. 

Harry looks mildly offended, plucking at the fabric lightly. “I thought you rather liked this robe.” 

Eggsy chuckles and slides off the desk, kicking his sleep pants to the side and getting right up in Harry’s face. He pushes onto his tippy toes and drops his voice low, picking up his best, proper tone. “Wager I’d like it much better on your floor.” 

Harry gives him a pointed look with his good eye, expression evaluative but calm. “Alright then-” 

Without warning he bends down, pushing his shoulder into Eggsy’s stomach and hauling him up over his back. The noise he lets out is somewhere between a shocked shout and a bright laugh, hands coming down to brace against Harry’s lower back when the man starts them towards the bathroom. 

The arm around his waist tightens somewhat and Harry reaches up to give his thigh an affectionate squeeze. 

It’s easy, so very easy; honest and natural. 

It’s more than Eggsy ever could have hoped for. 

And it’s just the beginning.

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> This movie is such a problem for me.
> 
> As mentioned above, I am a hopeless piece of trash, and I've definitely planned a sequel (maybe two) to this fic (I have a mighty need to see Eggsy wined and dined). If you guys are interested let me know, and I'll see about pounding a few stories out while I prep for exams. 
> 
> ...who am I kidding I'll probably write them anyways. Because I am scum. 
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
